


Love is Rage and Serenity

by ShadowHunterOfArtemis



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: (kinda at the beginning), Angst, Charles in a Wheelchair, Fluff I guess, M/M, Raven is bi as fuck, So is Charles, magneto is epic, my severe lack of knowledge about airplanes, obligatory Stan lee cameo - Freeform, rewrites canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHunterOfArtemis/pseuds/ShadowHunterOfArtemis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the beach divorce in First Class. Erik can't forget Charles as easily as he would like, and Charles isn't ready to let go. Reunited, the two struggle to acknowledge their feelings, and what to do about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about airplanes.

It is a very rare thing for Erik Lehnsherr to feel remorse. 

But he does feel it, cold and dark, weighing on his chest like chains. It feels as though his heart has been trapped inside iron bars - only he can't do anything to break it out. 

"Erik?" says Raven, and he can feel her eyes on him. She's in her true state, her skin blue as the night outside, and her eyes are glowing yellow moons. "Erik, you need to eat."

He lets the coin drop into his palm - he's been manipulating it so long he didn't even realize it was there - and sighs, looking up at her. "I'm not hungry."

"Then eat anyway," she says, sitting next to him. "I didn't come to watch you mope around."

Erik knows it's the truth, that she deserves better, but he just puts his head in his hands. "You should have stayed with him." I should have stayed with him. 

Raven looks exasperated, and he knows she is. "Erik, look at you. You can't eat, you can't sleep, you're a mess. All you can think about is -"

"Don't," Erik says pleadingly, because he doesn't think he can stand to hear the name. 

"- Charles," Raven continues, and the word sounds like a curse. "You might as well admit it. God knows it's obvious."

It's a long moment that follows, and Erik closes his eyes. But even there the blue eyes follow him - of course they would, when have they ever not been stuck in his head?

"It doesn't matter," he says at last. "I've seen the way he looks at Moira."

"Then maybe you've been looking at the wrong time," says Raven, and there's frustration in her voice. "Because I know Charles, and you're way above that girl in his heart."

It's the kind of thing that he hates himself for, but a small shred of happiness blossoms in Erik's mind. Even though Raven is lying. Even though she must be. 

"I nearly killed him, Raven," he says. "You think anyone can just forget that?"

She blows air out from her lips. "I don't care who did it. It could have been you, or Moira, or even some goddamn supernatural force. It doesn't matter who did it - it matters who does something about it."

It sounds remarkably like a pep talk. 

"What do you want me to do, then?" Erik asks. "I can hardly go running into his arms."

"Bring them here," Raven says. "All of them."

He looks out the window, gazing out into the darkness. Far beneath their feet, the water sways like silk. The night is beautiful, unconcerned with matters so trivial as love; how lucky it must be. 

Erik looks at Raven. "I'll do it."

***

It's night when Charles finally awakes. His head throbs, his back aches, everything is pain. 

"Charles!" Moira exclaims, and suddenly she's leaning over him. She's too close, so close he can feel her thoughts without trying. They buzz in his ears and whisper for attention like tiny insects. He leans back on the pillows to escape them. 

They're in a plane, he thinks, the sky passing alongside them. Alex and Sean are sat tensely (Hank is probably in the cockpit) and Moira is ... still there, leaning over him. He's in a bed, a gurney of some kind, in the middle of the plane. It makes him feel sick. 

"Erik...?" Charles asks, though he knows he's not there. 

Moira shakes her head, her hair sweeping her shoulders. "You blacked out on the beach," she tells Charles, and her voice is shaking. He wishes it wouldn't. "I managed to contact the government, get us a plane, but I didn't see where they went."

Charles closes his eyes, praying for sleep. But his mind is too alive, too alive, too alive for it. He needs Erik. He needs to find Erik. 

"Where is he?" he asks. "Please."

Moira shakes her head and thoughts pour out of her mind like water. "I - I don't know, Charles. There's nothing you can do."

"I don't want to do anything," he mutters. And it's true, he doesn't - he wouldn't try to convince Erik to change if he were here right now. He would put aside all of his morals, all of the bigger things, and try to be human. He would - oh, God, what would he say?

There is a sudden bump, and he's jostled upright. "What was that?" Alex asks, and it echoes through everyone's mind. 

Moira relays the question to Hank. "Just a bit of turbulence," he suggests. 

Charles looks out of the window. "Then why," he says mildly, "are we moving backwards?"

The plane turns around and slowly begins to move through the air. It goes creakily, descending through the clouds and down towards the water. They all sit motionless, like figurines in a child's toy. 

It's Moira who realizes first. "Hank," she says. "Hank, turn us around."

But Charles is not far behind. He can feel the energy around them, the focus in it. It is rage and serenity. It is what love feels like. 

"He's trying to find us," he murmurs. "I have to talk to him." He closes his eyes, touching his temple lightly. 

Everything is sharper with Erik. Sharper words, sharper looks, sharper images float through Charles's mind. Erik, he says. 

His face is there then. It's wild and bold, the night wind playing with his hair. He's not wearing his helmet. 

I am sorry, my friend, Erik whispers. I need to speak to you. 

Charles slumps against the pillows. He's tired, so tired, and his head burns. He looks at Moira through half-lidded eyes. "We're going to go to him," he says. 

Moira looks like she wants to protest, but Charles closes his eyes. He dreams of Erik. 

They fly on through the night. 

***

Erik's muscles are as strained as his heart, Raven thinks; his long fingers are outstretched as if to hold onto the night. 

The wind pulls at her hair, long and curling behind her. She's wearing her regular human body, though it itches at her, and leaning against the rail of the yacht. She can see the light of the plane blinking in the distance. Erik is next to her, his teeth gritted against his exhaustion, pulling it towards them. There's a helicopter landing pad on the ship, big enough for the plane, and they'll land it there. 

She wonders what's going on in the plane, if they're resisting at all, though Erik seems to be making steady progress. Charles, she thinks suddenly - is Charles resisting?

But no, she tells herself. If Charles is conscious, he's desperate to come back to them. He's trying to -

"Charles?" Erik says suddenly, and there's fear in his voice. Fear and joy, something Raven barely recognizes in him. He's staring at an unseen face. His lips move, faintly like dead tree branches. 

For an instant he closes his eyes. The plane hovers in midair. Then they snap open, and tears spill along his jaw. They mix with the sweat that trickles down from his temple. 

"Erik," Raven says, softer than she's ever heard her own voice. "Erik, you can do this. Focus."

He smiles and tears curl over his lips. "'I believe that true focus lies between rage and serenity.'"

He's probably quoting something. 

The plane is close now, close enough that they can see the light from the cockpit. Erik is looking more strained now, and Raven finds herself worrying that he'll collapse and fall over the side of the yacht. "Come on, come on," she murmurs. It's close, so close she can feel it. Charles and Hank are on there, and all the others -

Then the plane takes a nosedive into the water. 

***

In the end, it is always one moment. 

Moira sees Erik grinning triumphantly, standing on his yacht with Raven, and she snaps. She can see the moment the bullet hits Charles. It burns her eyes. 

Erik's smile is the one of a man victorious, and the only thing he has to win is the battle against Charles. The realization slams into her stomach and stays there, because she's sure their deaths are inevitable. 

She looks at the controls into the cockpit, no more than a basic understanding of what they are, and makes a decision. She sets the accelerator as fast as it can go. She doesn't look out the window as she hits it. 

And that is the moment. 

***

The water swirls around them, blue-green and dizzying. Charles can see it through the windows. 

"What's happening?" he demands, though he knows no one can answer. "What about Erik?"

"Charles!" Hank shouts. Panic is spread across his face in waves. "Charles, call Erik to get us out of here!"

Charles rubs his forehead, trying to push the pain away. "What's going on? How did we crash?"

Moira appears out of the cockpit, looking horrified. "Charles," she says. "Charles, I'm so sorry, I tried to get us away but then the angle of descent was too steep and now we're here -"

"Never mind that now, what's happening?" Erik, Erik, where are you?

"Charles -"

"Moira, listen to me," Charles says, his voice like stone. "Are we under the boat? Because if we are, Erik won't be able to pull us out fast enough."

Moira's voice is shaking. "N-no, no we're not."

"Good." He's sitting up now, pushing off the blankets, ready to give orders. "Sean, I think it goes without saying, but don't you dare scream." Already cracks are beginning to appear in the windows. "Stay calm, everyone. I'm going to contact Erik and see what we can do."

He can't help but think, though: what if it was Erik's plan, to drown them here? He wouldn't. He wouldn't. 

Charles dives into Erik's consciousness the way their plane did in water. Erik, please, he says. I need you to get us out of here. 

Erik's voice is clean-cut and articulate in his mind. I'm trying. It's hardly easy, Charles.

Erik, I know. I'll help you with it. He doesn't know how, but he will. 

Rage and serenity, Erik. Think of a memory of anger. Charles watches Erik's mother die. Of course that's his memory - of course it is - but it burns to watch. 

And now one of peace, of happiness. The image that appears in his mind is unexpected. It's the night that Charles rescued Erik, the night they met. Except this time he sees it from Erik's perspective. The rage under the water, then arms around him that pull him to the surface. Looking into his own eyes, and feeling a mixture of shock and joy. It leaves Charles quite unable to speak, and he almost loses focus. 

Charles? Erik sounds worried. 

Here, he responds, catching his breath. Now merge them. Find the middle point, the emptiness, and pull. 

He slumps against the pillows as the plane lifts out of the water. 

***

Find the middle point, the emptiness, and pull. 

Erik pulls. The plane is rising out of the sea, water slipping off its sides. Raven, standing next to him, grins. "Charles!" she shouts, though there's no way he can hear her. 

The entire body of the plane has emerged now, and it looks magnificent in the night. It cuts through the air, water streaming off it. Slowly it moves with Erik, gliding to the landing pad, and rests there. 

He can feel heat rising off his face, and exhaustion threatens to drown him, but seeing the plane land safely makes him smile. Raven puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"Go see him," she says. 

Erik runs, up the steps to the plane. The door opens as he arrives, and then Hank is there. He doesn't look overjoyed to see Erik, but he doesn't look angry either. It's a surprise. 

Then Moira is there, and still Erik feels a lick of anger burn him for a moment. He pushes past her, and into the plane. 

Alex and Sean are standing, grinning with relief, and there is happiness in the air. Even Erik catches it. 

Because there is Charles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, Moira and the rest have rejoined Erik. But things aren't any less complicated now that they're here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - there's a scene that could be homophobic if you squint. I was trying to stay true to the 1962 setting, but just so you know. 
> 
> (Also I watched FC and DOFP. They were awesome.)

It's not until his mind has quieted that Erik begins to worry. 

He never used to, not when the only thing at stake was his life. And then, when Charles and Raven appeared, he used his anger to block out the fear. The fear, the worry. But there is nothing, no way, to block out this. 

Charles is sleeping. He should be, he's exhausted, but it makes Erik feel alone. Everyone else is probably in their quarters. And Charles is still, too still. 

"Please, my friend," Erik murmurs, though the words choke and burn his tongue. Charles's hand lies agonizingly close to him on the bed, so near that Erik could reach out and grasp it from his chair. The sheets are crisp and white. 

A machine beeps. Glancing at it, Erik pushes back Charles's hair and presses a hand to his forehead. It's burning. 

Charles turns toward Erik. "My - my legs," he murmurs. The words are fitful, half-formed. "I can't feel my legs." He looks up at Erik mournfully. "Erik?"

He begins to take away his hand, blinking his eyes and mouth, but Charles holds onto his fingers. "No, stay," he says. Smiling, then: "It feels nice."

He rolls back over, stomach up, as Erik swallows. He adjusts his hand, fingers just reaching Charles's temple. 

"You know, Erik," Charles says, and the way he speaks is painfully easy. "I quite like you. Will you stay?"

It's delirium. Erik can feel iron in his veins, and it's melting. Charles has his eyes closed - he doesn't see the fire burn Erik and turn him to liquid. 

"I will," he says. 

***

Moira's just nodding off when Raven slips in. It's sudden, her blue head poking in the door, as Moira leans against the wall in a doze.   
"Moira!" Raven hisses. "Are you awake?"

She sits up groggily, sliding off her bed. The cabin is tight - Raven barely has to take a step to reach her. 

"I brought clothes," she says. She's holding them to her chest. 

Moira shakes her head in surprise. "Thank you."

Raven sits, her leg tucked under her. "Moira, what do you know about Charles and Erik?"

"E-Erik?" Moira repeats. For a second it's confusion, then it freezes over and she feels cold and her shoot through her. "What about them?"

Raven doesn't usually look human. But she does now, human and full of emotion, when she sighs. "Moira, Charles and Erik are ... complicated. Together kind of complicated."

"W-what?" There is a deadly pause in Moira's heartbeat. 

When Raven speaks, there is no softness. Nothing to cushion the fall. But her truth brings the ground closer, so you don't have as far to go. "Erik loves Charles, okay? That's it."

But Moira has always bruised easily. 

"Why are you telling me?" she asks. As though the purple sores blooming on her knees aren't there. 

Raven sets the clothes down on the bed and stands up. "Just thought you should know."

And she should have, Moira realizes. Oh, God, she should have. 

***

Erik's hand is cool like metal on Charles. 

I could read your mind right now, he thinks. And he's tempted. He always is. 

His eyes are closed, but his mind is wide open, and he had to force himself not to look inside Erik's head. He's both terrified of and exhilarated by what he might see. 

There's the squeak as Erik's chair shifts, and Charles opens his eyes. "Sorry," Erik says. "I have to go to the washroom."

"Then go," Charles tells him. "I don't want you being uncomfortable on my account."

Smiling, Erik stands up and removes his hand. He hovers for a moment, studying Charles's face. Charles wonders if Erik would ever kiss him. 

Which is an absolutely ludicrous idea. The thought is gone before he has a chance to shoot it down. 

Erik leaves. The room is silent, the air sterile. 

The door opens, and he looks up. But it's not Erik - of course it's not - and Moira steps in. 

"Hey," she says. She's wearing different clothes - looser, more comfortable - and she looks tired. She sits in Erik's chair and smiles surprisedly. "The seat's still warm."

"Ah - Erik was just here," Charles says, motioning to the door. Saying the name makes his stomach twist inside him, and he hates it. 

"Oh," Moira says. "Oh." It's a very significant oh. 

"Charles, you'd tell me if you ... weren't normal, wouldn't you?" she asks. 

"I'm a mutant, Moira," Charles tells her, even though his insides are spinning. "I'm not normal at the best of times."

Moira looks down at her lap where her hands are folded. She has nice hands. "Not not normal," she says. "I mean ... if you were different, in a not normal way ... I'd be okay with that." 

Charles frowns. It's not that. It's not that. It's not that, he tells himself. "What kind of different?"

"You know what - never mind," Moira says, and Charles knows she means it. He considers reading her mind, but he also realizes he doesn't want to. And that he already knows. 

"Good night, Charles," Moira tells him, and then she's gone. 

Charles looks around at the pristine white walls. 

"Good night indeed," he says to them. And falls asleep. 

***

Erik looks happier than Raven's ever seen him when he bumps into her. His smile covers his entire face so that she can't see what's behind his eyes - or maybe, Raven thinks, that's because his eyes match his grin for once. 

"Erik?" she says, just to convince herself that it's really him. 

He looks almost manic when he tells her, "I'm going back to see Charles. You should come - I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

She hesitates for a moment, then smiles - Erik's happiness is contagious. "Why not."

They head down the hallway. As they arrive, Moira's just shutting the door behind her. "Oh - hey, Raven," she says. 

Raven's always been good at reading people. If she wants to believably disguise herself, she has to be - body languages and speech patterns, she's discovered, are just as important as the visual aspect. That's why she notices the soft, nervous way Moira speaks, and how Erik stiffens beside her. 

"Hello, Moira," he says coolly, looking down at her. In half a second, he's become ice. 

"Charles just fell asleep," Moira tells them. She, at least, has gotten control of herself, since she sounds more confident. It's probably the CIA training. 

"Did he now? I didn't think you were that boring," Erik says. 

Raven hits him in the chest. "Erik!"

"Well, at least I'm not a sociopath," Moira says. "If Charles wants you, it's better him than me."

She's struck a match and thrown it at a bomb. Erik responds accordingly. 

"Excuse me?" he says, pushing Moira up against the wall. "What are you implying?"

"I just -"

"Erik, leave her alone," Raven says, grabbing his shoulder. He shakes her off but she insists, "Enough, Erik."

He looks at Moira, whose eyes are burning. Shaking his head, he walks away down the hall, and Raven follows. 

They turn a corner and make it about twenty-five feet before Erik slams his hand against a door. Sean pokes his head out almost immediately, looking groggy. He backs up when he sees it's Erik, but not much. "Whoa man, cool your shit!"

"Sorry," Raven says, and kicks Erik's ankle. They keep walking. 

"Erik, enough," Raven finally says, because Erik's walking faster and faster. "You know, Sean's right - you do need to cool your shit."

Erik snorts. 

"Don't you do that with me," Raven tells him. She folds her arms. "One minute you're practically frolicking around, the next your slamming people against walls."

Erik looks suddenly like he's going to be sick. He turns away from her and says, "How obvious is it?"

"What is?"

"How obvious is it, Raven." It is a statement, and he scowls. "Don't say you can just tell, or anything like that. How did Moira know?"

Raven has to turn over her memories to find what he's talking about. "Really? That's what you're worried about?"

Erik looks at her again. His eyes are the ones that have seen pain. 

"I told her," Raven says. 

He looks ready to hit her, but Raven puts her hands up in surrender. "Why," Erik begins, and his voice is deadly cold like poison, "would you do that?"

"Because." Raven glares at him. "Because she's powerless and scared - and on a boat filled with freaks - and she thinks she's in love with him."

"But I am," Erik says softly. 

He's looking over her head, watching something Raven will never be able to see. Then, unexpectedly, he hugs her. 

It's not quite how she imagined, less of a Hank hug and more of a Charles one. 

"I'm trying, Raven," he says into her shoulder.

"I know," she says. And she does. 

Because for Charles, he'll do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter actually made me kinda ship Moira and Raven. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Charles on the mend, the need for his mobility begins to arise. But he doesn't seem to want it - not until it's urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so ya know, the last pov character is kind of an asshole. I wrote him that way intentionally, but I don't share his opinions.

"Charles, just get in the damn chair," Raven says. 

He's sitting up in bed, the covers thrown off his dead legs. That's how he thinks of him now - dead, like brown leaves on a tree. He rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to."

"You're being childish," Raven insists. She rolls the wheelchair back in forth, the way you'd tempt a reluctant animal with food. 

Charles looks up at her, and her face is achingly familiar. "Raven, remember how you used to tickle my feet when we were young?"

"Of course." She smiles. "You screamed like a girl."

"Yes - well, I won't now," Charles says plainly. "I can't feel anything."

There is silence. It is the silence of realization. 

"Oh my God," Raven says softly. "I never thought ..."

"Shh," Charles tells her. He takes her hand. "It's not your fault."

Raven frowns at him. He doesn't need to see in her head to feel her emotions, radiating outward. Raven's always been powerful. 

"Charles, I won't make you do anything you don't want to," she says, and for once she's gentle. It's difficult for her, Charles knows, her with her fire and her iron looks. "But I think it could help you. Unless you want to be bedridden for the rest of your life, and the Charles Xavier I know would rather die."

Charles looks away. 

He hears Raven's receding footsteps, then the door creaks and he turns to look. It's ajar, and he hears voices. 

"Charles?" Erik says, poking his head in. 

And there it is again. Those damned nerves, turning his intestines into snakes that writhe inside him. He forces them down - why are they here, they shouldn't be here - and smiles tiredly at Erik. 

"Hello, my friend," he says. Erik takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking care not to squash Charles's feet. Though, Charles thinks bitterly, he wouldn't feel it anyway. 

Erik seems ... quiet. His thoughts aren't buzzing, shrieking the way they used to. They aren't silent either, but Charles likes the sound of Erik's thoughts. 

Erik glances at the chair then back at Charles. "I take it you're not in the mood?" He doesn't sound upset or exhausted or even disappointed. Just a little wistful, like it would be nice if Charles surprises him. 

But Charles has never been good at surprises. When you can see inside people's heads, anything unpredictable throws you off. 

"I'm sorry," says Charles. "Perhaps another day?"

The wheelchair sits there accusingly. It glares at him - it knows he's never getting in that thing. 

Erik nods. "I thought you would say that." He begins to set up a chessboard. 

They play for a while, and Charles notices the way Erik's long fingers curl around each of the pieces intricately. It's a little bit frustrating to watch.

The chair remains untouched. 

***

Raven recruits everyone to convince Charles. She and Moira visit several times in the week that follows, getting more frustrated each time. Getting mad at Charles feels terrible once she's done it, and Raven always does. Erik comes too, though rarely with anyone else, and usually only to play chess. He's not much help to Raven's cause. 

She brings Hank, and Raven can feel the tension between then sending sparks up along her spine. His fur tickles her arm slightly. 

"It'd be easier just to use the chair," Hank says. His gentle, kind voice makes Raven feel like she's burning. 

"Easier for what? My power comes from here, Hank," Charles says, tapping the side of his head. "I hardly need to get around."

It's a blatant untruth. "You didn't think that when you could walk," Raven tells him. Charles looks away. 

Sean and Alex come, though privately Raven decides their main task will be comic relief. 

"Come on, man, you gotta get up," Sean says. "How else am I gonna get better at flying?"

Charles looks rather surprised. "You ... want my help ... with flying?"

"Well yeah," Sean says. "Aren't you gonna be 'Professor X?'"

Alex joins in. "You better, because I'm not going back to prison. I can see it now - 'Charles Xavier's Home for Freak Children.'"

"I don't -" Charles behind. 

"You should," Raven chimes in. She's leaning against the doorframe, twirling her hair around her finger - even though she's adjusting to wearing her blue skin she's still not totally comfortable in it. She doesn't need Alex's constant jabs and smirks in Hank's direction. 

"I told you that 'professor' suited you," she continues. 

Charles smiles, cocking his head. "Yes," he says. "You did."

Azazel and Riptide are, of course, no shows. They've stayed grudgingly on the ship in spite of the arrivals, which Raven has to find admirable. They're not about to come visit Charles's bedside. 

She tries Angel when they're sitting on the deck, Angel soaking up the sunlight. Her shoulders curve gracefully, and Raven admires the wing "tattoo". 

"Won't you come see him?" she asks. 

"I can't," Angel says, looking at Raven over her sunglasses. "I abandoned him. I abandoned everyone."

It's painfully true. "You're here now," Raven insists. "And you were just sticking up for what you believe in."

Angel looks away, and her expression is conflicted. "I was saving my sorry ass," she mutters. "And I left Charles twice. He's a nice guy, Erik too, but I let him down."

She barely knows Charles. Not like Raven does. But Raven knows the feeling, the feeling everyone has, that Charles is some omnipotent force. That how you act around him determines your moral worth. Charles sees the best in everyone, so everyone wants to be their best around him. 

"You can't hide from him forever," she says, standing up. "We'll convince him eventually."

She turns to go, but Angel calls out. "Raven -" Her voice is uncertain. "Tell Charles I hope he feels better, okay?"

Raven glances back. "I will."

The one person she thinks has the best chance of convincing Charles is Erik, and all he wants to do is play chess. "I won't make him do anything he doesn't want to" is his explanation. "He's not a child, Raven."

"As you've clearly noticed," Raven mutters, throwing herself down on the sofa opposite him. The captain's quarters should be reserved for Azazel, but Erik obtained them without contest. 

Erik passes her a glass and pours her a drink of amber liquid - brandy? Whisky? Raven's not picky - then downs his own. "I heard that."

"That was the point," she tells him. "You could convince him, you know. You're very persuasive."

Erik sighs. "Raven - I don't know what you mean, but ..."

"If you think I'm flirting, you're wrong," Raven says. She supposes that she is, actually, though on Charles's behalf. "You're not my type."

Erik fills his glass, smirking. "Well, I certainly hope you and your brother don't have the same taste in men."

Raven holds up her own cup. "I'll drink to that."

They clink their glasses. 

"But you're not going to talk to him, are you." Raven leans back on the sofa and licks the remains of her drink off her lips. 

"I will," Erik says. "I do - just not about using the chair."

"It's not like it's going to hurt him," says Raven. "He's pretty much recovered."

"On the outside, yes, but I know a thing or two about scars." Erik studies his glass. "They never appear without touching your soul too. And that takes longer to heal." Perhaps subconsciously, he rubs his forearm, where a series of numbers are burned into his skin. 

He looks back up at Raven. "I'll talk to him, if you really want me to. But what makes you think he'll listen to me?"

Raven grins at him. His shirt is tight, the sleeves rolled up, and his hair elegantly sweeps over his head. The moonlight seeping in through the thin curtains illuminates his cheekbones, isolating the shadows falling along his mouth. 

"I won't spoil it for you," she says, smirking. 

And Erik, for once, looks mystified. 

***

There is no star in the sky that shines quite so bright as Charles Xavier's eyes when he's about to win a chess game. 

That's what Erik's thinking when he gets checkmated for the fourth consecutive time. And Erik might be stupid and sentimental and a complete and utter fool when it comes to Charles, but he's pretty sure he's right on this one. 

"Good game," Charles says, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Didn't you have something you wanted to talk about?"

Erik frowns. "Did I?" He hasn't mentioned his promise to Raven, though Charles may sell have just taken a peek inside his head. The thought's a little unsettling - if Charles goes poking around in there, who knows what he might find?

"You did," Charles says, snapping Erik back to the present. "As I recall, you said so yourself when you brought us here." The amusement in his voice is cold and jabs at Erik's spine.

"It - it was nothing," Erik says, aware of the blood rushing to his head. Down, he tells it, feeling nauseous. "I just thought I would miss our chess games."

Charles is silent, waiting for him to continue.

"And I'm sorry for bringing you here," Erik adds. "Against your will, and -"

"Oh, my friend," Charles says. He reaches out to touch Erik's hand, then lets go quickly. "You needn't apologize. I told them to let you take us. Which, in retrospect, seems a bit hard on you ..."

Erik laughs shortly. "You're worried about me?" The thought is bizarre. 

"Of course I am," Charles says, as if Erik's response is a surprise. "I always am, Erik."

Erik swallows, looking down. His chest feels too tight, like it can't cover up all the emotions he's experiencing. And Charles's eyes are on him, bright like searchlights, burning his skin. Everything is too much, too much, too much, in a way that makes him want to freeze the moment and deconstruct it. 

Erik starts, "Charles, I -"

Then he stops as he feels the engines halt. He can sense the metal, and nearby another presence that he guesses is a ship. 

It's subtle, but the yacht has stopped. Charles picks up on it, eyebrows creasing. "What's going on?"

"There's - another ship." Erik blinks. "Northwest, not far."

He stands and glances at Charles, who looks concerned. The chair is next to the bed. "I'll go see what it is," Erik says. Then, to lighten the quickly darkening mood: "Don't go anywhere."

Charles does not look amused. 

Erik heads to the bridge. Azazel and Moira are at the window, Moira scowling. He's grateful that for once it's not directed at him. "What is it?" he says to Azazel. 

Hank is already there - of course he is - and glances up at Erik. "That ship's navy," he says, pointing out the window like Erik hasn't noticed. "They've ordered us to stay here while they come aboard."

"And we're listening?" Erik demands. He'd turn the ship around and get them there himself if he could, but he doesn't quite know how to work it. 

Raven appears in the doorway. "What's going on?" she asks. 

Hank briefs her, and she sighs. "I don't suppose we can just get Alex to set the thing on fire."

(Erik personally has no objection to the idea.)

"Not if we want access to the New York harbour," Moira says. "And as do. We're going to have to talk to them."

Erik scowls. He's not one for the peaceful angle. "After what happened in Cuba?" he says. "There's no way they'll let us. We have a better chance if we fight."

Hank looks mildly offended. "No, I'm sure we need to try the diplomatic approach -"

"We need Charles," Raven interrupts. She looks at Erik, and though Charles is the telepath their mental conversation is clear. 

Get him, Raven says. 

I can't. He won't listen to me. 

Seriously. Just go try. 

Erik looks away, frowning. "Moira, time to use that CIA training," Raven says. "We'll go stall - Erik, get going."

He tenses his shoulders for a moment, then sighs and goes back to Charles's room. 

"What's going on?" Charles says as soon as the door opens. "What's happening, why've we stopped?"

"There's a military ship that's stopped us," Erik tells him. He's tense, pacing the room as best he can given its size. "And after what happened in Cuba -"

Charles touches his temple and smiles wryly. "You want to blow it up, don't you?"

"I'd love to," Erik admits, his mouth quirking up. "But if we do that, we won't be able to get into the New York harbour. And I don't want you to miss any medical care."

Charles's brow creased at that, and he blinks several times. "So what are we going to do?"

Erik takes a deep breath and leans close to Charles. "I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but you need to get in the chair."

"I - I can't, I'm sorry," Charles says. "I don't -"

"Please, Charles," Erik insists. He hates how desperate he sounds, how clearly he needs Charles. 

Charles purses his lips and looks to his left. At the chair. 

"Erik," he says, "help me up."

***

As he stands anxiously aboard the private yacht, Bob Jacobson is once again questioning his choice in career. 

He could be at home right now, reclining in his comfortable Queens apartment, if it weren't for these damned mutants. Of course, he probably wouldn't be - likely out on some other mission - but it makes for a nice picture. 

Beside him, Kane grunts. "Think they bailed?" He sounds almost hopeful - Kane's a little too trigger happy, a sixty-something agent looking to relive the glory days. 

Two women appear on the deck - one young and blond, surely well under twenty-five, the other brunette and professional. 

"Afternoon, gentlemen," the brunette says. She extends her hand. "Agent Moira McTaggert, CIA. This is Raven ..."

"Xavier," the blond supplies, smiling prettily. 

He grins. "Robert Jacobson. And this is my associate, Stanley Kane." Kane holds up a hand, adjusting his aviator sunglasses. His silver hair - Jacobson's sure it's a toupee - reflects the sunlight. "We're looking into the firing of missiles on several US ships from Cuba. It's believed that the suspects fled on a private jet."

The brunette - Moira - smiles. She's not as charming as Raven, though, and he doesn't smile back. "Ah. Well, I can promise that no one on this ship launched any missiles."

"Perhaps not launched," Kane says, and Jacobson thinks that might be the first intelligent thing he's said. "But you don't need to launch 'em, not if you can control 'em."

Moira looks clearly uncomfortable, but Raven smiles again and tilts her head. "Well," she says, "that would be something, wouldn't it?"

The silence is filled by her laughter, and they politely join in. "My colleagues will be arriving By moment," Moira adds. "Actually, here they are now."

Two men arrive on the deck. One is tall, his hair neat and him looking elegant in a dark turtleneck and leather jacket. The other's say in a chair, wearing a grey suit without a tie. The top button of his shirt hasn't been done. 

The first man is pushing the other's chair, which Jacobson realizes had wheels. It's an funny sight, he thinks, seeing someone so young more so because of his friend's complete ease with it. They reach them, and one in the chair smiles cordially. "Hello, gentlemen - how can we help you?"

They shake hands - the taller man folds his arms - and he continues, "My name's Charles Xavier, and this is my ... friend, Erik Lehnsherr." His hesitance is clear. 

Jacobson friend. Raven looks too young for marriage, and their interactions don't seem romantic. If anything, he would guess there was something between the two men. (Though, he thinks, the thought is by no means comforting.)

Xavier touches his temple. "Ah, yes, Mr. Jacobson - do you prefer Bob or Robert? And Mr. Kane, delighted to meet you."

Kane's sunglasses dangle off his nose. Jacobson opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again and says, "You're one of those - those freaks?"

The tilt of Xavier's head changes ever so slightly. It becomes a little colder, his eyebrows creasing thoughtfully. "Why yes, I am," he says. "Though I really prefer 'mutant,' it's the technical term. Now, are you going to leave this ship and let us pass, or do I have to make you go?"

The tall man - Lehnsherr, whoever - glances down. He seems a little surprised at the force with which Xavier speaks. 

"Listen, Mr. Xavier," Jacobson says, jabbing his finger at the man's face. 

"Actually, it's Professor Xavier." He looks mildly amused, playing with the thread of his trousers. 

"Whatever. You - all of you - are responsible for firing on American ships, and you are a danger to this country. You cannot be allowed to pass."

Xavier sighs and puts a finger to his temple. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

Then Jacobson feels something ricochet through his brain, brushing by his memories with its fingers extended. It blows the dust off some that he's nearly forgotten. 

His spine straightens. "You'll be allowed to pass," he says, Kane nodding agreement next to him. 

"Thank you." Xavier does not remove his fingers. "Erik, will you show our guests back to the boat?"

Erik uncrosses his arms and ushers them away. 

They reach the lifeboat they arrived in, the sailor helping Kane into it (despite his grandeur, he really is an old man). Jacobson's stepping in when Lehnsherr grabs his arm. 

"Just so you know," he murmurs, "Charles didn't try to hurt the ships. I did - just me. And I'd do it again, too. But Charles would never take an innocent life, never do anything to hurt anyone. He's so much better than that."

He throws Jacobson back into the boat. "Don't forget it."

***

Charles, sitting on the deck with his hand to his head, frowns. His lips part in surprise. 

I won't forget, Erik, he thinks. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pictured Stanley Kane as Stan Lee (hence the name).


End file.
